


part of your world

by atlas (songs)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Relationship Study, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6307465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/atlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers watching one player in particular: a fascinating boy, with a snub nose and an amazing serve. Kageyama had been enchanted at first sight.</p><p>But Oikawa was far less entrancing up close. Which is another lie, because— despite Oikawa’s petty words and snide remarks towards him, Kageyama was still all in. He still— wanted. To beat him. To be around him. To enter that starry, setter-orbit that somehow made Kageyama’s eyes go wide and his fingers itch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	part of your world

 

**i.**

 

Kageyama doesn’t get it. Maybe it’s masochism. Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s a manifestation of his bone-deep, ridiculous need to constantly push himself to his limits, both on and off the court.

 

There really is no clear-cut way to explain it. Yet, here he is. With a _crush,_ of all things.

 

A crush on _Oikawa Tooru._

 

He has no clue when it starts. Which is a total lie, because he’s got an inkling of an idea— one that traces all the way back to middle-school, to the new-fresh smell of _air salonpas_ and the midnight nuances of the Kitagawa Daichi uniform.

 

He remembers watching one player in particular: a fascinating boy, with a snub nose and an amazing serve. Kageyama had been enchanted at first sight.

 

But Oikawa was far less entrancing up close. _Which is another lie,_ because— despite Oikawa’s petty words and snide remarks towards him, Kageyama was still all in. He still— _wanted._ To beat him. To be around him. To enter that starry, setter-orbit that somehow made Kageyama’s eyes go wide and his fingers itch.

 

The Kageyama of the past didn’t get it. Didn’t get why Oikawa’s face went gentle around the other under-classmen, but never Kageyama. Didn’t get the way he genuinely smiled when setting up a quick with Iwaizumi-san.

 

 _I want that,_ Kageyama would think, unknowing of what _it_ was.

 

To set? To play?

 

Or something more?

 

Years later, and Kageyama. Still. Doesn’t. _Get it._

 

 

**ii.**

 

Because Hinata is stupid as shit, and Kageyama isn’t much smarter, they spend the afternoon studying Yachi’s notes together in Hinata’s bedroom. Once the sun begins to set, Kageyama takes his leave, making some excuse about dinner with his mother, when he knows she probably won’t be home until midnight.

Hinata and his little sister wave at him from the doorstep and then Kageyama is off. It’s not a long walk home; he just lives a few neighborhoods down. But he decides to make a quick detour at a small, corner convenience store along the way. He counts out his allowance money, which is enough for some milk and snacks. He’s sure there are also some leftovers in the fridge, too.

 

He’s a street away from the shop, internally debating between strawberry and banana milk when he sees _him._

Oikawa Tooru ambles down the sidewalk, plastic, _Sakura-Mart_ bag hanging from his wrist, and an open packet of milk-bread in hand. For once, he is alone, and the sight is actually jarring. Kageyama spent a year in middle school with him, but Oikawa was almost never by himself. He was usually surrounded by either teammates or adoring girls. Kageyama could only watch from afar, like the moonstruck loverboy he was.

 

 _How embarrassing,_ he thinks.

 

How badly had he wanted to be part of Oikawa’s world?

 

How badly does he want it, _still?_

 

It takes a moment for Oikawa to notice him, and once he does, his miserable expression slants into a grimace. He looks exhausted, Kageyama notes. Nothing like the glittery, poster-boy Kageyama is used to. Nothing like the angry, silver-edged captain from childhood. Just— tired. His undereyes are dark. He’s wearing a thick pair of glasses, and an ill-fitting sweater. Kageyama suddenly doesn’t know what to say.

 

Oikawa speaks first. “Tobio-chan,” he greets, monotone.

 

And then, because Kageyama might really have a death-wish, he blurts, “Are you okay?” Oikawa’s face goes completely blank. “I mean,” he amends. “You look… different.”

 

Oikawa pauses at that, and Kageyama thinks he might have shocked him as much as he just shocked himself. But he recovers quickly enough, and scowls, full-force.

 

“My _apologies,_ ” he sneers, “that I look so _awful,_ Tobio-chan.” He places his uneaten milk-bread back into the convenience-store bag, a self-conscious motion that sets Kageyama on edge. “Even _I_ can’t look beautiful all the time. Especially when I was just rejected.”

 

Kageyama blinks. “What?”

 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Oikawa snaps. “You heard the first time.”

 

And Kageyama had. It’s just— the words don’t compute. Oikawa… rejected? He just can’t fathom it. He’s pretty sure his fangirls had fistfights over him, back at Kitagawa-Daiichi. He wouldn’t be surprised if it still happened in high school. Kageyama vaguely recalls an incident in middle-school, where a girl allegedly threatened to jump into the fountain outside the school entrance if Oikawa wouldn’t date her. In a shocking display of grace, Oikawa actually talked her off the proverbial ledge, and even offered her a piece of milk-bread when all was said and done. According to gossip lore, she had stars in her eyes when he rejected her, lamenting that he really had to focus on volleyball, even though he appreciated her feelings.

 

Oikawa had never been that kind to Kageyama. Yet Kageyama somehow managed to feel _something_ for him, something that wasn’t negative in the slightest. So it makes no sense that he’d get turned down by anyone.

 

“Uh,” Kageyama says, after a strain of silence. “You don’t…” Here, Oikawa’s gaze goes razor-sharp. “You don’t look awful,” Kageyama admits, in a wispy tone, because he’s always been too straightforward to run though the same, mental gymnastics Oikawa so often traps himself in. “You… ” He lolls his head upward. _Fuck it._ “You always look nice.”

 

This is clearly not what Oikawa had expected to hear. When Kageyama finally glances back at him, the older boy is gaping, his cheeks splattered with red.

 

“Y-you…” Oikawa sputters. “You _brat_.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“I,” Oikawa tries again, seemingly lost. “Just. Nevermind.” He turns on his heel, ready to stomp off, but something unnamable stops him after a step. His broad shoulders coil tight, then drop. He moves to face Kageyama once more when he mutters, “Thank you.”

 

Kageyama’s heart stammers. But before he can think on it further, before he can say, _See you at the Spring Tournament,_ Oikawa, like always, is rushing further away, farther and farther ahead—

 

And he’s gone.

 

**iii.**

 

Kageyama doesn’t see Oikawa until their match in the Spring Tournament. When Karasuno wins, he doesn’t see him again for some time after.

It happens on a Thursday. Karasuno’s been training like mad for nationals, still caught up in the breathless high of beating both Seijou _and_ Shiratorizawa in the prelims. Kageyama doesn’t leave practice until late at night; the moon is up, and he’s still jittery with excitement, boundless adrenaline. He wants to play. He wants to _run._

 

So he does. He decides to take the long route home, the one that passes by the park, and the old, shallow river. Kageyama sprints, his thoughts going dreamy with images of what lies beyond. _Nationals. New plays. New teams. Hinata’s starburst quicks. Daichi-san’s amazing receives. Noya, Yamaguchi, Sugawara-san, Tanaka—_

“I-Iwa-chan,” says a quiet voice. It cuts into Kageyama’s reverie like a knife. Suddenly, his mind is elsewhere, brimming with an entire kaleidoscope of memories. _The first time he saw Oikawa’s serve. The last time he asked to learn it. The night Oikawa almost slapped him. The hollow, rueful look on Oikawa’s face afterward. The near-dead way he apologized. The painful, burning desire to stay near him, despite it all._

Kageyama’s eyes find him like a beacon. He immediately sees the tousled hair, the desperate stare. But this time, Oikawa’s not alone. Iwaizumi-san stands right beside him, cupping the taller boy’s jaw with a kind of tenderness that makes Kageyama’s knees feel weak.

 

 _I was rejected,_ Oikawa had said, months ago.

 

Now, he says, “I love you.”

 

And Iwaizumi-san says it back. “I love you too, you dumbass.”

 

Kageyama catches a few, stray whispers— _We need to get back; we’ll still be together next year; let’s stay like this for a while._

He scampers off after hearing the last bit.

_You always look nice,_ Kageyama had said.

 

He doesn’t get it. He _doesn’t get it._

 

 _Why am I so stupid?_ he wonders.

 

**iv.**

 

Karasuno loses in the third round of nationals.

 

The team cries. Kageyama curses, mentally replaying every missed set and failed toss. Hinata punches a locker, and almost sprains his damn finger.

 

But there are no regrets.

 

The third years retire proudly. A bright, golden banner welcomes them back to school: _Congratulations on Nationals, Karasuno Volleyball Team!_

 

And Kageyama is so, so grateful, to have experienced this much in his first year. He bows, ninety degrees, to the third-years on their last day. Sugawara-san tears up, ruffling his hair. Asahi-san sniffles a bit and Daichi-san wraps him in a bone-crushing, soul-breaking hug.

 

It’s perfect. It _should_ be perfect.

 

 _You got everything you wanted,_ he tells himself, on his way home.

 

So why does it feel like something’s missing?

 

Kageyama gets his answer in the form of déjà vu. He stops at _Sakura Mart_ for strawberry milk, and when he walks outside, he is standing face-to-face with none other than Oikawa Tooru.

 

Kageyama resists the urge to blush. He tries not to recount the— _circumstances_ in which he’d last seen Oikawa.

 

“Hi, Oikawa-san,” he says, quietly.

 

“Tobio,” Oikawa replies. He isn’t wearing his glasses, today, and it makes his eyelashes look unnaturally long. He’s also biting his bottom lip, and it seems like he’s battling with himself for a full minute before he finally manages to say, “Congratulations.”

 

He doesn’t elaborate, and Kageyama hadn’t expected him to. But the notion is strangely sincere. So Kageyama nods, grateful for the praise, however curt it was. He pries his eyes away from Oikawa’s red, red lips.

 

“Thank you,” he says. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

 

Oikawa balks, or maybe blanches. Kageyama hates how no matter what he says, he can only put those kinds of expressions on Oikawa’s face. No gentleness, no fondness. Only ever distaste, disgust.

 

_Why me?_

Oikawa steps closer, and Kageyama feels the other boy studying him. The unapproachable aura about him fades somewhat, when he meets Kageyama’s eyes and murmurs:

 

“Say, Tobio.”

 

“Yes?” Kageyama asks.

 

After a second of deliberation, Oikawa speaks.

 

“Seijou,” he starts, slowly, “won’t lose to you, next year. My kouhai are stronger than you can imagine.”

 

 _I was your kouhai once, too,_ Kageyama longs to say. In the silence, he wonders if Oikawa can hear that stray, pleading thought.

 

And he just might have. Because Oikawa’s strained, tired gaze softens, then, almost imperceptibly. Kageyama freezes, stunned speechless, when Oikawa brings a hand to his shoulder— not to hurt, but to touch— and gently, at that.

 

“Good luck, Tobio,” Oikawa says, before pulling away. “Though you probably won’t need it.”

 

He moves back, then, and Kageyama can only stare as Oikawa walks away. It’s the usual thing. Oikawa walking, traversing into spaces Kageyama can only stumble after. Leaving him behind. Leaving him to evolve on his own.

 

“Oikawa-san,” he calls out, on instinct.

 

Oikawa stops, and looks at him, eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

 

“It’s one win and one loss,” Kageyama tells him. “Let’s change that, in the future.”

 

 _I don’t think this is the end,_ Kageyama believes. _This isn’t the end of us._

Oikawa smiles, then— a pure, genuine smile, one that Kageyama has never, in all his wildest dreams, expected to be directed at _him._

 

Oikawa nods, once. He says, “Let’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> the last ep ignited a flame and it won't go out, i'm so sorry. i love the pain.
> 
> comments are always super duper appreciated btw!!


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